Appendices
by Bliss Whitely
Summary: Johnlock. John shows how frustrated he is with Sherlock. please read inside info for a little more information. Rated M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

**some agnst/domestic arguing/frottage. Don't like, go away. John frustrated and Sherlock being himself. Reviews are love... please gimmie some. **

There was something formidable and animalistic rising up between the two men, uncharacteristic of Sherlock and so very typical of John. John was panting having run up the stairs behind Sherlock into their flat, angrier than he had ever been in his life… Sherlock… Sherlock Holmes…

"You… YOU- you had everyone believing you were dead-Sher-Sherlock…. You made me _THINK _you were DEAD!' He was breathing heavily through his nose, eyes wet from suppressing his rage and hurt and happiness, relief and content that Sherlock was standing on the other side of the room, looking at him.

"I had my reasons, John. In your current state of mind, you are too overwrought for me to explain and hope that you would understand, furthermore, it is 2am in the morning, its better we save a _domestic _feud until daylight so you don't wake the entire street." Sherlock said, using the word 'domestic' lightly as he pulled the blue scarf from around his neck like he had done some months ago before John watched him die. John blinked in the casual aftermath in which Sherlock went about his business as if no interval had elapsed between the last time their eyes had met and now. John shook his head in refusal or denial as Sherlock was inspecting the state of his violin.

"You've kept it well for me, John… I was sure you'd have been rid of it." He said, placing the instrument on his shoulder and pulled the bow across the strings, a fine melody in which John had hungered and pined to hear filled the room and John, just for a second was transported back in time, the money he spent to keep the violin in perfect condition was now paying off. But then…

"You… you…' John tried to start again. His heart and head was warring with each other. His head was angry… he wanted to take the carefully shined and tuned violin and throttle him with it, smash it over his head to give himself some piece of mind or at least retribution for all that he had endured for the last few months… but his heart was singing, rejoicing… burning hard to run over to Sherlock and kiss his lips, face and neck raw and hold him so tight he'd break his ribs.

"Don't stutter it's unbecoming of you." Sherlock said lazily. John's face blanched. That little blossom of ardor for Sherlock wilted at the manner in which Sherlock displayed no feeling for the apparent upset he had caused. John snarled.

"You son of a bitch! You bloody fucking prat!" John bellowed. Sherlock looked over his shoulder at John.

"Don't pretend you're angry. I know you too well to believe you're really _that_ angry to see me. I told you already. I had reasons for what I did… I cannot explain it to you now; you are far too emotionally distraught to comprehend my explanation. It will have to wait until your blood pressure goes back to normal at least." Sherlock said lazily and then dropped himself in his usual armchair, noting how the seat had not been sat in since he last had his bottom in it… it fit his buttocks perfectly still and didn't feel as if someone else began molding their bottom on it in his place, which means that John hasn't had anyone… nor has he sat in it.

"Em... emotionally distraught? Sherlock… _I… you_…" John couldn't deny it, wouldn't deny it for that matter, he is distraught and rightly so. "I was half mad with grief… I missed you so much and it hurt… and you have the balls to sit there and act like nothing ever happened-that all my suffering was nothing!" John was red and nearly spitting with rage and Sherlock raised his brows.

"It was. I know what you were doing, even though you didn't see me, I saw you. Every day. I watched you to make sure you were safe." Sherlock said on a sigh of impatience. John bit his lip, trying to keep his anger in, nothing would please him more than to go over and kill him now, so he'd have had a reason to feel all that pain he has experienced over the last few months.

"Was everything a lie?" John asked as he swallowed hard in his throat. Sherlock's eyes came up from looking in a vague direction away from his flat mate. They looked at one another for a few seconds before Sherlock stood up abruptly and started heading for his room.

"It's not important anymore, John." John watched Sherlock walk by as off-the-cuff as can be and he felt the proverbial drumroll of his blood pressure rise with a swelling frenzy. He followed fast behind Sherlock, taking the corner, ridged and fuming as Sherlock stopped just in his doorway, inspecting the scene of his room to which John too had taken meticulous care to keep it clean and neat. No dust lay anywhere, the bed so tight you can bounce a nickel off it. "You kept my room clean too."

"What the hell do you mean it's not important anymore?" John asked furiously and ignoring the statement Sherlock made about the cleanliness of his room.

"You really must have wanted to impress if you wished to keep such care of a dead man's personal space and belongings." Sherlock said in a soft manner as he looked about and he too blatantly ignored what John asked. John took a few steps closer. He wasn't accustom to going into Sherlock's room, at least not when he was in there and the only time he went in there on a regular basis was after he believed Sherlock to be dead and that was just to tidy up. "Have you had a lady friend here with you?" Sherlock asked with a knowing grin that John did not see.


	2. Chapter 2

"You damned well know the answer to that Sherlock, especially since you have been watching me – and you are avoiding my question!" John said a little louder. Sherlock turned and faced John. One hand on the door jam and the other on the door itself.

"I am not avoiding it. I am waiting to answer that when the world is awake enough to hear the explosion of our argument. Good night, John." Sherlock said and started to shut the door. It was almost shut; the displacement of air between the two rooms was felt before a hard thud to the door prevented Sherlock from closing it all the way. He looked down and John's shoe was at the bottom of the door. For a moment it shocked Sherlock. A small but strong hand came around and grasped the door and pushed it open, knocking him back a little but he was able to keep his footing fine until John barreled into the room breathing fire out of his nostrils as he looked into Sherlock's eyes and got right up on him so their faces were nearly touching. Sherlock then realized he had backed away from John, backed right up so his backside and hands were resting on the nightstand as he looked down into the angry man's face.

"You have no right-NO BUSINESS being so fucking calm when all I want to do is fight with you for putting me through this! Not just me-But Mrs. Hudson… Molly… Greg… you hurt a few people and not just me!" John said as he seethed, his hands itching to get around Sherlock's throat… his lips burning to kiss and lavish that slightly sweaty neck. John wasn't even sorry in this moment for making even the slightest bit of unease pass the taller man's face.

"Do I have to repeat the fact that I said I had my reasons?" Sherlock asked. John lowered his head and closed his mouth trying to steady his breath.

"What reasons are those, Sherlock? Tell me now!"

"I cannot. It makes no-"

"DON'T YOU DARE SAY IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE! IT DOES TO ME!" John bellowed again. Sherlock meant to bring his hand up to place his fingers over John's mouth. Not in a manner to threaten him, but to ask him to keep his voice down but John's emotions were so high at the moment that when he seen Sherlock raising his hand up, John's instincts as a soldier kicked in automatically. He grabbed the thin wrist hard and noticed blindly the stark pain in Sherlock's face. John didn't register that he was hurting Sherlock at all, he just grabbed the thin delicate wrist and they started to tussle.

A struggle that eventually led to a few blows, mostly from John into Sherlock's ribs or stomach. There were grunts and rustling of clothing being violently pulled. Sherlock could not bring himself to actually strike John. Even though he understood why John was so upset, he still found it a bit wearing on his nerves that John had to come to blows, so in an attempt to stop his rampage, Sherlock pulled the denim jacket over John's head like a hockey player technique, he smiled because he thought it worked until John felt the Jacket coming up over his head, he ducked and pulled completely out of his jacket and then redoubled his efforts to pound Sherlock into pulp.

Sherlock turned away but John caught the back of his long jacket and it slipped off, Sherlock sliding out of it effortlessly. John dropped Sherlock's jacket to the floor amongst his own jacket and leapt at Sherlock again, his hands finding those beautiful slender wrists that seemed almost always ready to crumble in his grasp and he would just stop before they broke. Sherlock was twisting, trying to pull away.

"John! Control yourself! This is not necessary!" Sherlock panted as they rounded about again and the plea for the end to violence only served to infuriate John more and he pushed with all his weight into Sherlock's midriff, knocking the leaner and longer body onto the bed where he climbed up and sat astride Sherlock's chest and wrapped his hands around the long and slender neck that was so smooth in his palms.

John was realistic normally… he knew he could never really do anything to hurt Sherlock but the bloody git deserved it. He was so angry at him for leaving him to stew like that for months, depression, loneliness, heartbreak. Sherlock reached up and scrabbled at John's shoulders desperately as John's fingers pressed against his windpipe.

"John! Don't!"

"Sod off, you son of a bitch! _SOD OFF!_" John seethed through his teeth, a vein or two popping in his temples as he watched Sherlock's face go pink.

"You don't really want to hurt me!" Sherlock blurted out and John's hands loosened. He didn't want to hurt Sherlock but he was so angry he could do anything untoward and violent right now and not feel bad about it… break the bastard's jaw… crack those gorgeous cheekbones…

"Oh no?" John asked and quick as lightening, Sherlock would have marveled if only to himself at how quickly John moved that it was his military training, John and positioned his body into a sort of paradox version of a wrestling pin, lifting one of Sherlock's legs so it dropped over John's spread thighs and it allowed the smaller man to get right between Sherlock's legs, forcing the long lean legs apart. Sherlock wasn't sure what was happening and it was happening so quickly that when John had grabbed Sherlock by the face and pressed his mouth hard and hungrily to his mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

Oh he knew what was going on; he just couldn't connect his mind to it as adaptably as he is prone to doing with so many other things. This wasn't something with hard facts like the solid protrusion between John's thighs, it was pressing into his groin between his own flaccid penis and the crook of his leg. John's mouth, open, hot and wet pressing against his own mouth but heatedly moved with savage kisses to his cheek and down around his jaw.

Sherlock wasn't sure if it was his body betraying him or John's body heat overcoming him, but Sherlock suddenly felt very warm in the face as John whimpered and moaned and growled between ferocious kisses all over Sherlock's face. Sherlock would never admit that it was scaring him, but again, his body further betrayed him as he began to shake. His thin fingers grasped at John's shoulders and he held his breath.

John was smothering him, even hurting him with this attack and Sherlock liked it. He felt more alive now… there was nothing boring about this as he thought it would be… he was… wrong.

"You self-centered-'John panted as he dragged his teeth across the strong muscle of Sherlock's neck and licking at the hollow in that willowy throat.

"John-stop-' Sherlock panted as John's mouth came back up and kissed him hard on the lips again, the slighter hand coming down over the white button down that clung to Sherlock's form with effortlessness and sleekness. Sherlock's eyes fluttered shut, his brain on high speed trying to take in every little detail of what John was doing and feeling. Immense erotic feelings must be rampart in him to make his hardened flesh pulse and twitch harder with ever increasing kisses and sucks of his mouth over any and every bony province between Sherlock's face and neck leaving red marks.

"Self-loving-' John panted some more, his fingers coming down to Sherlock's waist band, his fingers pulling at the black slacks curiously, feeling Sherlock's body bowing under him.

"Arrogant-'John readjusted his body between Sherlock's legs so that the hardness of his frustration was pressed firmly against the man under him. Sherlock made a strange sound in his throat when John took both his wrists and held them to the mattress over Sherlock's head and looked down at him, both men panting and thoroughly aroused. Yet Sherlock still looked dazed, John on the other hand looked hungry. He licked his lips and drew closer again so the tip of his nose brushed Sherlock's.

"Beautiful… sexual… delicious little blighter…" John whispered. Sherlock was looking up at him and the soft ambient light in his room was throwing his angular face in a pure angelic glow that was greatly attracting John to the point of delirium. John made a despairing whimper in his throat, exasperated at how stunning Sherlock can be and he doesn't even realize it nor does he care or utilize it for his own gratification. John thought to himself that if he was that beautiful he would use it to his advantage, but Sherlock had been shut off as far as he knew… which means he is like pure untouched snow.

John pushed up against him, a slow rock of his hips against Sherlock's. The simple movement has such a profound effect on every muscle and nerve between his legs and lower belly that spread like an untamed wildfire through his body. It made Sherlock's lips part a little, as if in awe but no sound came out of his mouth except an utterance of John's name that was little more than an undertone. But the utterance of his name hardly left his mouth before John was kissing all over his mouth again in breath taking pulls on his lips, pulling on them, sucking them into his own mouth as he began a slow rhythm, pressing and dragging the wealthy bit of temptation on and against Sherlock, whose body responded perfectly to it though it looked very much like Sherlock was attempting to either fight reacting or he didn't know how to react, judging by the way he kept holding his breath.

"This is quite a difference from trying to kill me a moment ago-"Sherlock started to say but John muttered for him to shut up. They paused in their movements, John panting slightly. John reached up and grabbed the back of Sherlock's neck, knowing full well that he not only had the collar of his button down, but a hank of his hair with it and yanked his head back and bit and sucked at the underside of Sherlock's jaw.

"I was so lonely, Sherlock. All I could think of was you.' John whispered against Sherlock's jaw and the taller man moaned as John's hot lips scorched his skin, warming the flesh in their wake as they dragged down his jaw and nibbled his Adam's apple. John could feel Sherlock warming… his body getting hot and his breath getting heavy. He brought his eyes up slightly and Sherlock's face was completely slack, his eyes shut, his mouth open and he moaned to the ceiling. John moved a little more steadily, clutching and humping.

The bedsprings starting to creek under them as John moved a little more vigorously, Sherlock's hips coming up involuntarily. John could feel him getting hard too and he still had that look on his face as if he could not comprehend why his body was reacting like this and horrified that he was enjoying it as he reluctantly started lifting his hips against John's thrusts. John supposed that Sherlock didn't have anything like this in his _'mind palace'_; knowing him, Sherlock would think this was useless stuff and would expel any notion as soon as it entered his head but here it is now and he couldn't do much but react naturally to it rather that what he knew about it.

"Oh Sherlock… Oh Jeez-"John moaned and whimpered as he pressed his cheek against Sherlock's and closed his eyes. He could hear a soft breathing from Sherlock, but no moaning or panting. John was so hard and he couldn't take it anymore, liberating himself from the confines of his jeans he saw briefly that Sherlock had looked down between them and his face went pale then turned fiercely pink as he looked up at John. There was such a mesmerized fear in his face at that moment that all john could reasonable do is help him comprehend and overcome that fear and confusion. He slipped his fingers into the fold of the zipper of Sherlock's slacks and pulled it down, Sherlock's fingers gripping at John's wrist in panic.

"John-I'm not ready-"Sherlock said blindly, although the taught material of his slacks covering his crotch said otherwise. John looked at him seriously.

"Shhh…' John whispered and ran his knuckles over the mound of hot hard flesh between Sherlock's legs with pleasing effects as Sherlock bit his lip and noticed a definite change in the way Sherlock's legs were positioned. They came up so that the flat part of his feet was on the bed, spread at the knees.

John climbed back over Sherlock, the head of his engorged cock gliding over the opening of Sherlock's open slack, drawing out a nervous moan from Sherlock and a moan of lust from John as he played his head about the zipper opening, feeling the heated length just behind it.

A sound unlike anything John had ever heard come out of Sherlock met his ears with indecent mewling as John's length slipped through the zipper that was wet with warm sticky fluids from his own cock and Sherlock's, letting him slide in easily. His shaft caressing alongside Sherlock's perfectly and tightly so that John could feel with every pass of his flesh against Sherlock's, the smooth length pulse and throb. John squeezed his eyes shut, digging his fingers into the opening with his cock to pull the front of Sherlock's underpants down so they'd touch flesh to flesh.

It was easy, once John and Sherlock were gliding slickly against one another both nestled in the confines of Sherlock's slacks, John leaned forward, taking Sherlock by the face and kissed him, moaned in his mouth, whimpering as Sherlock's thin fingers dug into the soft flesh of his lower back and digging up around under John's shirt, leaving trailing fingernail scratches in their wake before restlessly grabbing John's meaty backside and pulling him in greedily.

Sherlock's body shook and bucked, his head tipped back, exposing the full length of his neck to John which he noticed the army doctor loved to kiss and nip at. He could hardly believe the sensations accumulating in his hard-drive right now. Things he had considered irrelevant and trite before gave him such a high right now that he was sure he would never be pleased with anything else quite the same again lest it be John's affections. Sherlock grit his teeth as a long coo came out from between them feeling the frantic buildup of John's movement between his legs and the long deliberate strides against his hardness was now erratic and in fits of uncontrolled moaning, John seemed to want to press them so hard together that their hips banged together fiercely enough to throw their bodies upward and the bed thumping to the wall. All these things succeeded in turning Sherlock on even more… he knew… about intimacy, can tell you the chemical imbalances and what the body does when it is aroused and how people who are cannot hide it from him, but he did not KNOW what that chemical imbalance felt like, what it forced the human body to succumb too until now… how John's essence and chemical makeup wafted into Sherlock's nose and he was lost… What a lot of people don't realize is there is a scent between chemically attracted people. People who are not chemically matched can still have sex but not as fulfilling and they usually never last. Sherlock knew as he met John, that the army doctor is a perfect chemical match for him… and now… John is experiencing it along with him.

"JOHN! OH GOD; JOHN!" Sherlock's hands came up and grabbed the short hair at the back of John's head as the smaller man buried his face into Sherlock's neck, groaning and breathing in his smell as if subconsciously attracted to it like an insect to nectar. John's body went ridged, followed by Sherlock; they trembled as their hips glided perfectly with one another until-

"Sherlock… ooooh…' John muttered in a high pitched mewl as he lifted his face to look into those seductive blue eyes. As he did, he could see it, smell it, feel it… Sherlock's seed pouring forth and mingling with his own as each desperate thrust against the man under him culminated in one of the most beautiful, blinding, erotic and satisfying climaxes he had ever experienced and by the look on Sherlock's face, it was the only one he had ever experienced… at least in this manner.

It took time for them to catch their breath and indeed be able to move. John's head rested in the crook of Sherlock's shoulder and neck and his fingers were tenderly wrapped up in the locks of dark curly hair, feeling Sherlock breath steadily under him, his heart hammering against John's chest.

"Tell me this is real, Sherlock. Tell me I am not hallucinating."

"You're not hallucinating. I am very real… and I don't think I have ever realized that until now."

There, some random sexy Johnlock for ya. R&R plz

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